


[INACTIVE/ON HOLD] — Ace's High

by crystymre



Series: The Balance Between Light and Dark [1]
Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: D1 - D2: Forsaken, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, F/M, Friends to Lovers, canon events
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:14:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25295254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crystymre/pseuds/crystymre
Relationships: Cayde-6/Female Guardian (Destiny)
Series: The Balance Between Light and Dark [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1832497
Comments: 5
Kudos: 23





	[INACTIVE/ON HOLD] — Ace's High

_Hunters belong in the wilds. Out there, you wanna live? You better have a quick shot, or a sharp blade. -Cayde-6_

✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵ ✵

“Guardian? Guardian? Eyes up, Guardian.”

A voice woke a woman from her sleep, though she wasn’t sure she had  _ been  _ asleep.

“It worked. You’re alive!”

Her eyes opened, one at a time, an eyeball seemingly floating in her field of vision. Sunlight burned, unseen for longer than she could remember.

Wait… what  _ could  _ she remember?

She blinked rapidly, forcing her eyes to adjust. Not an eyeball… but clearly an eye. Mechanical. Robotic. She  _ knew  _ she had never seen anything like this before.

“You don’t know how long I’ve been looking for you.”

He had?  _ It  _ had? What was… it?

“I’m a ghost. Actually, now I’m your Ghost. And you… well, you’ve been dead. A long time.” Somehow that uncomforting fact seemed to explain a few things. Muscle atrophy. Dehydration. The fact that she couldn’t so much as remember who she was… “So, you’re gonna see a lot of things you won’t understand.” She watched the ghost float, spinning around anxiously. “This is Fallen territory,” it explained. “We aren’t safe here. I  _ have  _ to get you to the City.”

She looked around, rusted cars packing the space. They were on a road… a highway… an interstate? The more she tried to remember, the less she could. “I--” She went to speak, her own  _ voice  _ foreign to her. Panic began to set in as she looked down at her palms; she was wearing some kind of armor… a uniform, she thought. But why? 

Her head spun, looking around the area she had just been woken in… resurrected in… the Ghost,  _ her  _ Ghost, hovered in front of her face to block her view. “Hold still,” he said, dematerializing before her eyes. “Don’t worry, I’m still with you,” he said inside her head. “We need to move,  _ fast _ .”

The woman pulled herself to her feet, wobbling slightly as she breathed deeply. Her lungs burned, the air clean. In the distance, an inhuman roar echoed across the barren freeway.

“You’re safer inside,” her Ghost explained, instinct drawing her eyes toward a door in the rusted wall. Pushing forward, she weaved her way through the long-since abandoned cars, ignoring the skeletons; adults and children alike. Whatever had happened had been tragic, not that she could remember what it was.

“I need to find you a weapon before the Fallen find us,” her Ghost said, the two disappearing inside the wall. She was surprised the metal floors held her weight, seemingly rusted out for centuries. Following the only path forward, she accidentally kicked at one of the metal grates, the sound echoing through the unlit cavernous space. “Quiet, they’re  _ right  _ above us.”

Her skin crawled, uncertain of what  _ they _ were. Fallen. Whatever a Fallen was. Not human from the sounds of it. The question spurred another and then another: was  _ she  _ human?

Her Ghost continued to chatter, floating away from her as she tried to process everything:

> She had been dead.
> 
> A  _ ghost _ , whatever that was, brought her back to life.
> 
> They were on their way to a City… though she didn’t know  _ where _ that was. The few signs she had seen seemed to be in Russian… wait, how did she  _ know  _ that?

The lights came on, shadows crawling up the walls. Not shadows…  _ Fallen _ .

“Here,” her Ghost lit up a gun haphazardly laying against some crates. Auto rifle. Khvostov 7G-02. Her head hurt, knowledge she didn’t understand flooding her mind. “I hope you know how to use that thing.”

She did… that fact somehow more frightening than the creatures crawling above her.

The first Fallen fell down in front of her, knives slashing through the air. Jumping back far enough to avoid them, she squeezed the trigger. Strangled screams came from the beasts, their heads exploding in a fine mist of sorts.

“Good shot,” her Ghost commented. “There’s more ahead. Keep it up!”

Muscle memory took over, planting the stock of her gun into the soft of her shoulder, eye peering down the sights. She moved tactically, firing the rifle in short bursts. Rounding a corner, she froze, lasers blocking her path.

“Tripmines!  _ Don’t _ touch them!”

Taking aim, she shot at the base of the closest one, setting off a chain reaction. The Fallen caught between the mines eviscerated, leaving the path clear. 

For having no memory of who she was, where she was, or what she was doing, one thing felt certain… blowing things up was fun. A smile pulled at the corners of her mouth as she pressed forward, taking down Dreg after Vandal.

The corridor let out in a large room, Fallen skittering about the area. Several shots landed, her Ghost healing her as she went.

_ Well, that’s handy _ , she thought to herself, taking out the last one.

“The Fallen have a tighter hold on this place than I thought. Just a bit further. Let’s hope there’s something  _ left _ out there.”

She ducked through a hole in the wall, seeing daylight through a massive grate. “This was an old Cosmodrome,” her Ghost explained. “There’s  _ got _ to be something left for us to fly out of here.”

Fly? Fly what?

The air seemingly ignited as she exited the other side of the wall, vibrant blues and purples she was sure she hadn’t ever seen in her previous life rippling across the sky. “Fallen ships? This close to the surface?” She could hear her Ghosts panic. “Move!”

She ran, finding cover in an abandoned building. There was only one way to go, a handful of Fallen between her and the next area. Ensuring her rifle was loaded, she set off, dropping each one where it stood.

“I’m picking up signs of an old jumpship through there. Could be our ticket out of here.”

Jumpship… right. She made her way under a door, spotting the ship in question suspended above them. On top of it sat the biggest Fallen she had ever seen; not that she had seen many given that she still didn’t know  _ what  _ they were.

“Captain,” her Ghost warned her. “Might want to use that shotgun now.”

Picking off the other Dregs, she left the Captain for last. Sprinting at the four-armed alien, she dropped last second, the Captain swinging his swords at her. Pumping the shotgun twice, she blew a hole clean through it, the six-foot monster slumping over.

“Well then,” her Ghost seemed as pleasantly surprised as she was. “Vanguard is going to love you.”

“Vanguard?” she asked, pulling herself to her feet.

“You’ll see,” the Ghost disregarded her question. “Alright, let me see if I can get us out of here.” It dematerialized once more, flitting toward the decrepit ship.

She knelt, taking a good look at the Captain she’d killed. Somehow that didn’t weigh on her like she thought it should, the thought of killing another living thing. She knew that it would have killed her regardless of her morality on the issue. Attributing her detachment to her current state of shock, she decided to let it go. 

“It’s been here a while. Hasn’t made a jump in centuries. We’re lucky the Fallen haven’t completely picked it clean.”

Scavengers then. Alien scavengers, she realized, noting the Captain’s mask featured some kind of breathing apparatus. “Will it fly?” she asked, once again surprised to hear her own voice.

“I can make it work.”

The ship stuttered to life, the noise deafening. Breaking free of its tethers, the ship hovered, the noise attracting more Fallen; the same roar from the other side of the wall somehow louder than the jumpship.

“Okay, it’s not going to break orbit, but it should get us to the City. Now, about that transmat…”

The woman felt her jaw drop, watching a Fallen twice the size of the dead Captain pry itself out of the wall. She was going to need more than a shotgun for this thing. 

“Brining you in,” her Ghost spoke urgently, feeling her body pull away from the earth beneath her feet. In a blink, she found herself sitting inside the ship, the controls overwhelming. “You can come back for them when you’re ready,” her Ghost said, the ship lifting out of the tear in the ceiling. “Let’s get you home.”

Unsure if it was a letdown from the adrenaline high, or her brain finally cooking from the amount of information she’d just been fed, but the woman quickly fell asleep. Clearly, whatever this Ghost was, it wanted her alive; she couldn’t say the same about the things on the ground.

Waking to the flashes of lightning, the ship shuddered in the air. Sirens blared, a red light inside the cabin flashing. “What’ s--”

“Autopilot disengaged,” a female voice spoke calmly. 

“You’re going to have to take control of the ship, Guardian.”

“I don’t--”

“It’s simple. Promise.”

Hesitantly she gripped the yoke. The ship shook once more, dipping in altitude. Pulling back, she made the jumpship level out, gliding through the storm clouds.

“See? Natural.”

“You talk as if you know me,” she said bluntly, focusing on not crashing.

“I do. In a way, I suppose. I’m your Ghost.”

“You’ve said that. But what does that mean?”

“It’s best if I let the Speaker explain that.”

“Who?”

“The Speaker. He speaks for the Traveler.”

“The who?”

“We’re almost there,” he said. “Once we’re clear of the storm, the autopilot should reengage.”

“Okay,” she paused. “Hey, Ghost?”

“Yes, Guardian?”

“What’s your name?”

“I--I don’t have one.”

“Oh. Okay.” She bit her lip, mulling the question that had been plaguing her since she woke. “What’s my name?”

“Oh, uhm,” it hesitated. “I don’t know that either.”

She remained silent for the rest of the trip, getting a feel for the ship as they flew through the storm. Questions plagued her as they broke free of the clouds, the setting sun nearly blinding her.

“Welcome home,” her Ghost said quietly, the autopilot taking control back from her. She peered through the glass, noting the giant white ball in the sky and the City below it. There was energy coming off of it, similar to that of her Ghost just stronger. “ _ That _ is the Traveler.”

“Arcadia class Viktor Seven Bravo Four One Whiskey state your intention,” a voice crackled through the comms.

“New guardian rez,” her Ghost cut in. “Here to see the Speaker.”

“Third today,” the voice replied. “Hangar bay twelve.”

“Got it.”

“Third today?” she asked, the ship descending toward the Tower on the wall.

“There’s been a rash of rezzes,” her Ghost explained.

“Rez?”

“Resurrection. It’s what the other Guardian’s call it.”

The ship guided itself toward the center of the Tower Courtyard, her Ghost transmatting her to the surface before the autopilot redirected it toward the hangar. It felt good to be standing on solid ground again, the Tower noisier than the Cosmodrome had been. “Welcome to the last safe City on Earth. The only place the Traveler can still protect. It took centuries to build. Now… we’re counting every day it stands. And  _ this  _ Tower is where the Guardians live.”

Turning, she looked out over the City, noting how beautiful it was in the setting sun. “This is home?”

“It is now. Come on, you need to meet with the Hunter Vanguard.”

Following her Ghost through the courtyard, she noted how others stared at her, men and women of all different shapes and sizes… and species. She tried her best to not stare at the handful of blue women congregated around what appeared to be a robot.

“An Exo,” her Ghost explained. “Human minds inside exoskeleton frames. The fireteam around him, awoken.”

She nodded, pretending to understand what that meant as she followed him downstairs.

“Aha! Fresh meat!” a voice boomed, causing her to jump. A man with a single horn on the side of his helmet laughed; she and her Ghost skirting away from him. “Are you ready for the Crucible?”

“The what?”

“Later,” her Ghost urged her into the room beyond. She stopped short of the oversized table in the middle, noting the three that stood around it. The  _ Exo _ to her left, another awoken -albeit a massive one- in the center, and a woman in floor-length purple robes.

“Welcome,” she said with a kind smile. “I am Ikora. The Warlock Vanguard. I’m betting you don’t quite remember who you are?”

She felt herself blush. “Uhm, no. Sorry.”

“It’s quite alright. Side effect of resurrection,” Ikora turned to the Exo who was staring at a map. “Cayde?”

“Hm?”

“You have a new hunter.”

The Exo looked up, brilliant blue eyes blinking.  _ Not eyes _ , she told herself.  _ Optics?  _ He was entirely unlike the other Exo she had passed who had been vibrant shades of orange. This one was worn, a faded array of blues and whites under a ratted old cloak. He blinked several more times, his head tilting to the side. “Well, hey there, stranger,” he cleared his throat. “Welcome to the Tower. A new Hunter, you say?”

“Found her just outside the Cosmodrome,” her Ghost spun proudly.

“You sure she’s a hunter?” Cayde eyed her, sizing her up. “Awfully short,” he made a show of comparing their heights.

She set her face, trying to determine if the man was trying to be funny or simply rude.

“You’re short,” the blue man at the end of the table gruffed.

“I’m five-ten, thank you,” Cayde scoffed. “You’re what? Five-four?”

“She’s five-six,” her Ghost bristled.

“Huh,” he paused. “Well, you made it out of that rust bucket alive. Not likely to catch tetanus. I’d toast your health, but I’m supposed to be all reputable now.”

Ikora chuckled.

“I am Commander Zavala,” the blue man spoke. “The Titan Vanguard.”

“Hello,” she said nervously.

“That is an old exodus uniform if I’m not mistaken,” Zavala continued. “Fairly good chance you have some identification in your top breast pocket.”

She blinked, having felt silly for not thinking to look for ID. Not that she would have  _ known _ to search for it, she reminded herself while mentally chastising. Reaching, she found a zipper, the top of her uniform giving way to a pocket. Sure enough, she discovered a blue booklet wrapped in plastic.

“A passport?” her Ghost asked, peering over her shoulder. “I haven’t seen a passport in centuries.”

She pulled the booklet out, flipping it open. A smiling blonde stared back at her, information listed to the right of the picture. 

> NAME: NOBLE, TERIN
> 
> DATE OF BIRTH: 287 A.A.
> 
> DATE OF ISSUE: 321 A.A.
> 
> PLACE OF BIRTH: TEXAS, URNA.
> 
> OCCUPATION: SENIOR ASTROPHYSICIST, EXODUS SILVER

“Terin Noble,” her Ghost said her name for the first time. “Nice to meet you, officially.”`

“A.A?” she questioned the date, her eyes darting back to her picture. Blonde… she was a blonde, with blue eyes. Five six, just like her Ghost said. She should have found it odd that she didn’t know what she looked like, the woman in the photograph a complete stranger to her.

“After Arrival,” Zavala answered.

“What… what year is it now?” Terin asked Ikora.

“1023 A.A.”

“I…,” she swallowed, unable to finish the sentence.

“Terin?” Her Ghost buzzed around her head.

“Might be best to get her to the Speaker,” Ikora said softly. “And then find some food,” she added, undoubtedly able to hear Terin’s growling stomach.

“Oh, ramen!” Cayde looked back up.

“Not until those bounties are posted,” Zavala shut the idea down. “Terin?” The Commander tried her name on for size. “Come see us when you’re ready.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, surprised at how natural it felt.

“Seriously, though, go try the ramen place. Tell ’em I sent ya.”

“This way,” her Ghost led her back out the way she had come.

“That’s three today,” Ikora stated.

Zavala hummed in agreement. “Three today. Nine yesterday. Twelve the day before.”

“If I were a betting man, I’d say the Traveler is up to something,” Cayde mused.

“The Traveler is dormant,” Zavala said matter-of-factly.

“Unless that’s what it  _ wants _ you to think?”

“Bounties? Now.”

“Killjoy,” Cayde muttered, his attention back on his map.

* * *

The sun had set by the time Terin and her Ghost left the Vanguard, the City below them illuminating the floating orb in the sky. She had little to compare its beauty to but knew inherently that it  _ was  _ beautiful.

“The Last City?” she asked her Ghost.

“The last safe one, anyways. There are other outposts scattered throughout the system, but this is by far the largest that we know of.”

Terin stepped to the railing, peering down below. Logically she knew it was a frightening height. But part of her, a fractional spark in the back of her mind -the same spark that caught her smiling as she shot her way through the Cosmodrome, wanted her to jump. She imagined how the wind would feel, the flitter in her stomach as she free fell to the ground below. “What happens if I--?”

“Don’t,” her Ghost warned.

“But what  _ would  _ happen?”

“I would resurrect you. But could we… not?”

“Afraid your little ghost buddies will give you a hard time if you have to resurrect your guardian on her first day?”

“Something like that,” her Ghost spun. “This way.”

She followed her Ghost through the corridors and into the most peculiar room she had ever seen.

“There was a time,” a soft voice came from above her. She peered up, spotting a man with a white mask, certain it was decorative and not functional like some of the other armor she’s seen thus far. “When we were much more powerful. But that was long ago. Until it wakes and finds its voice, I am the one who speaks for the Traveler. You must have no end of questions, Guardian.”

_ Understatement _ , she thought, her eyes following the direction the Speaker pointed.

“In its dying breath, the Traveler created the Ghosts to seek out those who could wield its Light as a weapon.”

The power she had felt, radiating off of it and her Ghost.

“Guardians. To protect us. And to do what the Traveler himself no longer can.”

“What happened to it?” she asked.

“I could tell you of the great battle centuries ago. How the Traveler was crippled. I could tell you of the power of the Darkness. Its ancient enemy. There are many tales told throughout the City to frighten children. Lately, those tales have stopped. Now… the children are frightened anyway.”

The Speaker paused, gazing up at the Traveler as though it were speaking to him that very moment. “The Darkness is coming back. We will not survive it this time.”

“Its armies surround us. The Fallen are just the beginning,” her Ghost pitched in.

“What can I do?” Terin asked.

“You must push back the Darkness. Guardians are fighting on Earth and beyond. Join me. Your Ghost will guide you,” the Speaker turned to her Ghost. “I only hope you chose wisely.”

“I did. I’m sure of it. We’re in this together now.”

“You should find yourself some better attire, lessen the duty of your ghost by properly armoring yourself.”

“I will show her to the Vault’s after I’ve gotten some food in her,” her Ghost chipped.

“Very well.”

Her Ghost flitted into her field of view, pulling her attention from the various instruments. “Hungry?”

“Starving.”

“Guardian,” the Speaker spoke again. “This will become easier to grasp with time. Should you have any questions, your Ghost cannot answer for you seek guidance in the archives and libraries.”

“Yes, sir.”

Terin left the Speaker almost as confused as she had been meeting him. The only clear thing was that she was a soldier of sorts now with powers she didn’t understand. Light. That had been what he’d called it. She could  _ feel  _ it everywhere she went in various forms. Some Warlocks, as she now understood that the taller guardians with robes to be, radiated a warm glow like the sun. Others, Titans, had an almost electrical charge about them.

Hunters, the few she had spotted, seemed to wield a combination of the two, armed to the teeth with knives and guns. She watched the hunters, always alone, weave through the crowds, always disappearing into some back alley. 

She was led out into a bazaar, the scent of food slamming into her like a wall. “So many options,” her mouth began to water.

“The ramen place Cayde recommended is over in that corner. But you have Thai, Vietnamese, Indian, Moroccan, Greek, Italian, … well, you pretty much have them all. That’s the thing about the Last City, it serves as home to  _ all _ cultures of the world.”

“How many people live in the Last City?”

“1,568,429.”

“And how many guardians?”

“Your resurrection brought the count up to 654.”

“That’s it--?”

“Guardian!” The horned Titan from before boomed, charging her way. “Are you ready to test your valor?!”

Terin couldn’t help but skirt away from the man, her Ghost intercepting the man. “We have things to do today.”

“Very well! Tomorrow!” he charged on.

“Who  _ is  _ that?” Terin asked, watching guardians flee from his path.

“That is Shaxx. Crucible handler.”

“Crucible?”

“Controlled Guardian versus guardian environment. You fight other guardians to improve.”

“Huh,” Terin considered what that might entail. “That sounds fun.” She swore she saw her Ghost roll its eye. “Oh, that’s a lot of options,” her mouth had begun to water reading the menu descriptions up on the leaderboard above the ramen shop.

“Better choose wisely then,” a voice came from behind her. Terin spun, finding Cayde in line.

“I’ve never had ramen,” she stated. “At least I don’t think I have, anyway.”

“Can’t go wrong with the number six,” his faceplates arranged themselves into a smile. “Level four is usually good. But you’re new, better stick with a two.”

Her eyes narrowed, seeing the challenge written on his face. Patiently waiting her turn, she stepped up to the window, a small man waiting expectantly behind it. “A number six, please.”

“Spice level?”

“How high does it go?”

“Five.”

“Then that’s what I’ll have,” she smiled, swearing she saw Cayde smirk.

“Ghosts don’t resurrect for esophageal rupture,” he warned.

Terin’s Ghost flitted out in front of her. “We do. We just take a second or two beforehand.”

“You!” the man behind the counter pointed at Cayde. “You have my money?”

“Ah, no,” the Exo admitted.

“Then, no ramen for you!”

“Oh, come on,” Cayde threw his arms up. “I’m good for it.”

“That’s what you said last week!”

“I’ll pay ya double,” he pleaded. “Next time.”

“You said the same the week before that!”

Terin took the bowl offered to her at the window, watching the two banter back and forth. “How  _ am  _ I paying?” she asked her Ghost quietly. She watched as her Ghost floated over, projecting the same light it had used to power the jump ship earlier.

“Glimmer,” it explained. “Fallen tend to drop quite a bit. You can pick up more in chests throughout the regions.”

“Chests?”

“Caches left behind by other guardians--”

“Hey!” Cayde spun on them, finger still pointed at the ramen vendor. “You leave my caches alone.” He paused, optics narrowing. “Don’t suppose you’ve got enough on you to cover another bowl?”

Her Ghost spun around her head, facing the Hunter Vanguard. “She does.”

“I take back what I said. Loot the caches… just leave the exotics?”

“He’ll have a number six,” she spoke to the vendor, not breaking eye contact with Cayde. “As spicy as you can make it.” 

The hunter’s face broke into a smile. “I owe ya one.”

* * *

“ _ This  _ is the Vault,” Terin’s Ghost explained, the new Guardian stepping up to a kiosk in the Tower’s courtyard. “I take your weapons and armor and encrypt them into a transferable state of matter.”

“Okay?”

“It’s probably easier if I show you,” her Ghost flitted around her head. “Let’s go to the gunsmith. Get you something new.” Terin followed her Ghost up a short flight of stairs, finding yet another Exo in the corner. “Terin, this is Banshee-44.”

“Whaddya need?” the Exo gruffed.

“Something better than this,” her Ghost replied, the Khostov materializing out of thin air.

“Where’d you’d find this scrap of junk?” Banshee asked, grabbing it to peer down its sights.

“Cosmodrome.”

“Lucky then. Thought that place was picked clean,” he tossed the rifle over his shoulder into a scrap heap. “So whaddya want? Another rifle? Something more linear? A hand cannon?”

“Uhm…” Terin must have looked decidedly confused, the Exo waving her on to follow him.

“Hunter, right?” A door panel popped open, leading to an armory. “Most like long-range. Snipers, scout rifles, the occasional rocket launcher--”

“Rocket launcher?”

“Mostly hunters like Shiro or Quantis,” Banshee kept rambling. “But then you have the others, guys like Cayde or Ren, that like to get up close and personal with hand cannons.”

“Hand cannons?”

“Here,” Banshee chucked a pistol at her. “Venation II I snagged a while back. Word is Arach has a new version of it in the works. Better rifling, different barrel attachments.”

Terin held the gun up, the weight neither too heavy nor too light, peering down the iron sights.

“Suits you,” the Exo laughed hoarsely. “Some cannons will have more kick, gotta watch out for that. Gonna be loud too.”

“Small and loud,” Terin repeated, the gun more than comfortable in her hand. “I can do that.”

“Heh, you  _ are  _ a hunter.”

* * *

Terin and her Ghost left the armory fully outfitted and weaponized just as the moon came over the horizon, the courtyard nearly empty for the night. “So, what do we do now?”

“There’s dormitories on the lower levels for newer guardians if you’re tired.”

“No,” she shook her head. “If anything, I’m wired.”

“I’d suggest heading back to the Cosmodrome, but with that Archon, you might want to wait to form a fireteam.”

“Do I  _ have  _ to work with a team?” she asked, walking toward the railing that overlooked the City.

“No… but it’d make it easier.”

“Hey, Ghost?” Terin spun, facing the small device. “Did you  _ want _ a name?”

“I--” her Ghost paused. “If you want to name me--”

“No. Do  _ you  _ want a name?”

“Typically, it’s only the legendary guardians that name their ghosts, guardians from before the City Age.”

“Who says we won’t be legendary?” Terin smirked, the sensation somehow familiar as pieces of her personality began to click together. She took a step back towards the edge, her Ghost spinning urgently. “Peter?”

“What are you… Peter?” it asked indignantly.

Terin shrugged, stepping up onto the rail. “Nolan?”

“Where  _ are  _ you getting these names from?”

“Svet?”

Her Ghost paused, it’s optic narrowing. “You speak Old Russian?”

“Apparently. So is that a no?”

“If I say yes, will you get off that rail?”

“Maybe.”

“Then, yes. I like the name.”

“Great,” Terin grinned before throwing herself backward into the open air, her Ghost racing to follow her down, both unaware of Cayde watching them from the shadows.


End file.
